


High Hopes Realized

by Karios



Category: Laverne & Shirley (TV)
Genre: Accidental Proposal, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s04e01-02 The Festival, F/F, Marriage In Homophobia-Free AU of Canon Time Period, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25288465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karios/pseuds/Karios
Summary: Laverne's rubber tree plant? Marrying her best friend. Luckily, she's got a whole army of ants ready to rally for her and Shirley.
Relationships: Laverne DeFazio/Shirley Feeney
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9
Collections: Just Married Exchange 2020





	High Hopes Realized

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tablelamp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tablelamp/gifts).



This trip hadn't really been what Laverne had expected. The festival was plenty of fun and the food (both from her grandma’s kitchen and the street vendors) was as good as she remembered, but she was beginning to understand why her pop had been so nervous to come back to Brooklyn. All the fun in the world didn't make up for the disapproving glare her grandmother was levelling her way. Laverne kicked herself for being dumb enough to admit that she no longer lived at home.

“I just moved out of his house cos...” Laverne floundered for an answer that would satisfy her grandmother. 

“Because she's getting married,” Frank supplied. Laverne shot a quick glance toward her father. She had agreed to that lie, sort of, and with the way Grandma had treated Pop so far, it seemed only fair to back him up.

“Yeah, that's right.” Laverne plastered on a grin.

“Who are you marrying? Is he nice? Is he Italian?” In spite of the aggressive finger wagging, her grandmother looked thrilled to pieces and Laverne’s heart began to sink.

She turned toward Pop again, who said, “She's marrying, uh, Shirley.”

“Shirley!” Grandma cooed.

“Shirley?” Shirley herself squeaked, leaping up from the couch just in time to be swallowed up in another enthusiastic Grandma DeFazio hug. 

“Oh another beautiful, wonderful granddaughter. Perfetto.” She went on for a moment, murmuring soft praise in a mixture of English and Italian, peppering Shirley’s cheeks with kisses. 

Meanwhile, Laverne and Shirley made complicated conversation with their eyes. Shirley was shocked and confused and fervently begging Laverne to get them out of this. 

Laverne wasn't entirely sure she wanted out of it. What was the harm really? They'd get a nice party and eat a cake and do some dancing. It actually sounded kinda nice. Laverne shrugged back; Shirley scoffed.

The silent exchange came to a halt as Grandma spun around, one arm still on Shirley. “There are two things I always wanted: to see Laverne get married and to see Italy again.”

“Maybe you should see Italy again,” Shirley said, laying the hint on heavy.

“We’re going to have the wedding on Sunday, with the whole family, at the end of the feast!” Grandma declared.

“Sunday doesn't give us a lot of time,” Laverne tried for Shirley's sake. “Right, Pop?”

“Mom, I'm going to save up money and I'm going to send you to Italy,” Frank tried to deflect.

“Oooh,” Grandma clasped her hands to her chest. “I'm going to go with them on their honeymoon? I'll show you everything,” she promised.

“That sounds real nice, Grandma,” Laverne said, and she meant it. Even though this was all a big fat lie, the thought of strolling around Italy with her grandmother and Shirley made Laverne feel all warm inside in a good way. Maybe it didn't have to be a lie, maybe they could—

Before she could finish that thought either, Anthony spoke up. “Why didn’t you say something, Laverne? I never woulda come on to Shirley if I’d known she was your girl.”

“Yes, Laverne. Why didn't you say something?” Shirley asked her in a clipped tone.

“I...I dunno,” Laverne said, the most honest answer she could manage with her head swimming. “Pop, can we go for a walk? We need to talk.”

“You two need to talk?” Shirley hissed, her incredulousness clear to everyone except Grandma, who was still staring at them with hearts in her eyes wide enough to block out everything.

“All right,” Frank said.

Laverne towed him toward the door, as Shirley continued to protest. “Laverne! Laverne DeFazio, you will not leave me here. Not after...after _that_.”

Laverne shut the door on Shirley anyway and rushed down the street, eager to put space between her and the apartment. It and the fresh air would clear her mind about Shirley, surely.

After a few minutes, Frank asked, “So what’s on your mind?”

So much. Too much. Laverne wasn't sure where to start. “Why’d you pick Shirley?”

“Why’d I pick Shirley for what?”

“To fake marry me. You coulda picked Lenny or Squiggy or anybody.”

“I like Shirley,” Frank said simply.

“You do, really?” A fresh wave of hope seized Laverne.

“Of course I like Shirley.” Frank slapped his thighs in frustration. “What's this about, huh?”

“Would you like Shirley enough for me to marry her, like, for real?”

Frank barked out a short laugh. “Sure. She pays her rent on time. Watches out for you. Knows her manners. Better than a lotta louses you could’ve found.”

From Frank DeFazio that was basically glowing praise. Laverne nodded. “See those are all good things. And we're already together all the time and we know how to fight and make up.”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“I think I want to marry Shirley.” As soon as she said the words, Laverne could see it. Not just the wedding or Italy, but going on dates, even growing old and gray with Shirley by her side. Like watching her life flash before her eyes, only it was the future not the past.

“Good. And you will on Sunday. Can we go inside now?”

“No, I mean for real, Pop. For always.”

Frank threw a skeptical look at her. “It's fine by me, but what are ya tellin’ me for? Shouldn't you be talking to her about this?”

Laverne nodded. “I will, Pop. I just needed to make sure I was sure first. I didn't really know it. Not until you said it just now, but I wanna marry Shirley.” The doubt melted away. 

“Good on you, kid. Now you just gotta tell your wife about it,” he teased.

Laverne gave him a shove, and he gave her a slug in her arm. “She’ll be a fine daughter-in-law,” Frank added as they turned back to the house. The moment was kind of perfect. 

What was decidedly less perfect was trying to talk to Shirley. She made herself scarce after Laverne went back inside, and locked the guest room behind her. Laverne rushed to follow, knocked. “I thought you wanted to talk.”

“Not anymore I don't,” Shirley called from behind the door. “Just go, Laverne.”

Any follow-up pleas went completely unanswered, and Shirley didn't even relent when it was time for bed. Laverne ended up having to room with Anthony, who snored. Under the circumstances, it was barely a step up from joining her father in the bathroom.

* * *

Shirley was present as they all headed down to the festival the next day. Although, from the cold shoulder she was giving Laverne, she might as well have been back in Milwaukee. 

As everyone split up, Shirley dashed away faster than a wet cat. Laverne hustled to keep up with her and caught her by the arm.

“Let go of me,” Shirley said.

“Okay.” Laverne relented, releasing her grip on Shirley's arm because Laverne hated it when fellas did that. “But Shirl, you’ve gotta talk to me.”

“Well I imagine so if we’re to be married on Sunday,” Shirley said sarcastically.

“I wanna be married on Sunday.” 

“Really? Isn't this just a little too far to be going to avoid disappointing your grandmother?”

“No. I mean, well yeah, it would be, if that's why I wanted to marry you. But I’d marry you on Sunday, or in a couple of weeks back home, or a year from now on a convenient Tuesday.” Laverne sucked in a breath then plowed on. “I want to be with you, Shirl, forever-like.”

Shirley laughed and Laverne’s heart began to crack. “You don't mean that,” Shirley accused.

“I do, yes I do. I wouldn't say that if I didn't mean it.”

“I don't know what to think! This is just too much.” Shirley turned away, then back, then away again. “I need time, Laverne.”

This time when Shirley headed off with purpose down the street, Laverne let her go. She turned and headed back the way she’d come.

"If it's not my favorite lady,” Lenny greeted as a dejected Laverne walked past.

“I’m really not in the mood, Len.” 

His jovial mood dissolved to genuine concern. “Laverne, what is it?”

She debated not telling him. Sure, the four of them had done their fair share of talking over love stuff in the past, but this felt so much bigger. Loving Shirley, possibly losing Shirley for good because of this big dumb mess, wasn’t anything like breaking up with a fella. 

“You can tell me anything,” he added, pulling her into a gentle hug that she hadn't realized she needed until she set her head on his chest.

“I finally figured out I’m in love with Shirley.” 

“You're in love with Shirley?”

She glared up at him, even without moving out of his arms. “Yeah. You wanna make something out of it?”

“No, no. Go on.”

“So I’ve been trying to tell her that I love her and I do wanna get married for always, but she thinks it’s all a joke and now she won’t even talk to me!”

Lenny gave Laverne a good squeeze and waited quietly for a moment, but Laverne didn't have any more to say. She stepped back out of his arms, looking up at him expectantly.

“She won’t, huh. Can I talk to her?” Lenny said it like half a question, half an offer.

“Knock yourself out. I’m going to play some of the games. See if chucking things cheers me up any.” Laverne gave him a watery smile. “Thanks for hearing me out, Len.”

“Anytime, Laverne.”

* * *

It took some looking, but Lenny eventually found Shirley in one of those fancy art museums.

“If Laverne sent you to talk to me, I don't want to hear it,” Shirley informed Lenny without turning around.

“Since when has Laverne been able to make me do much of anything?” he asked and she chuckled.

“You have a point.” She pulled her eyes away from the painting she was studying to look at him. “What do you want, Leonard?”

“First, to make sure you're okay.”

Shirley jutted out her chin. “I’m fine. Just enjoying this museum.”

Undeterred by her frosty attitude, Lenny replied, “Good, then I can tell you I think you're being crazy.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“You heard me.” He jabbed a finger toward her. “You’re thinking about turning down the swanky spread Grandma DeFazio is planning. I’d marry Laverne in the bottom of a sewer if she asked me.”

“Well that's half the problem, she didn't ask me. Mr. DeFazio did!” Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes, and Shirley knew if she carried on shouting like this that they’d both be tossed out of the museum. So she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She’s never been the one in love with me,” Shirley confessed quietly.

“That’s not what Laverne said,” Lenny informed her.

Those words should have lessened the ache that had settled in her heart. Instead, it just felt like another joke piled on. For all Shirley knew, Laverne was still pretending. “Well, that's great. That's just great. Mr. DeFazio does the proposing and you get to tell me that Laverne is in love with me, which frankly I’m still not sure I buy, what’s left for Laverne and I?”

“Nothing. If you stop being friends forever.”

“That was surprisingly astute.”

“I did not fart,” Lenny replied indignantly, and it took Shirley a moment to realize he’d parsed that as "ass toot".

“No, Leonard, astute means the thing you said was smart.” Shirley already regretted that compliment. She could feel Lenny's ego swelling.

“If I'm being smart, then you should listen to me and talk to Laverne.” Lenny punctuated this conclusion with a short victory dance.

“That was not your best argument.” 

Lenny snapped his fingers, disappointed. “Aw, I thought it was pretty good.” 

Shirley sighed. “I’m still mad at her. How would you feel this whole thing was happening to you and Squiggy?”

“We’d be mixed up but we’d work it out.” Lenny answered confidently. 

“How can you be so sure?” Shirley asked.

Lenny shrugged. “Because I wouldn't let anything hurt Squig, least of all me.”

Shirley wanted that kind of faith in her own best friend back. “Okay. I’ll talk to her. Tonight.”

* * *

True to her word, Shirley was ready to talk later that evening, but deciding to talk and knowing what to say to Laverne were two completely different things. So unnatural silence stretched between the two of them the way it hadn't in years.

Finally, she decided to throw it back on Laverne. “Since you're the one who wanted to talk so bad, have at it,” she said sharper than she meant to. She barely suppressed a wince as Laverne’s face fell.

“You’re that mad you don’t want to talk to me no more?” 

“I just want it to stop being so tense between us!”

“Me too!” 

Shirley gaped at her. “How can you say that when you’re the one dragging the whole charade on?”

“Charade! It’s not a charade. If you want, I’ll call the whole thing off. I don't want to, but I will.”

Shirley sneered at that. “Because you're so in love with me?”

“Yes. Good, you know about that part.” 

“No, Laverne. Not good, not good at all. Lenny shouldn't get to tell me you’re in love with me and your father shouldn't get to propose.”

“Why not?” Laverne asked. 

“Because!”

“Because why?”

“Because it doesn't leave anything for us, that's why.”

“Sure it does. It still leaves plenty of things,” Laverne insisted, taking a step toward her.

“Name one,” Shirley demanded with a step forward of her own.

Laverne closed the remaining distance between them. Shirley’s eyes widened as Laverne leaned in, and then planted a soft kiss on Shirley’s lips. Laverne pulled back enough to say, “There’s that.” It would have sounded better smug, but it came out sort of dazed, instead.

“I liked that,” Shirley admitted, her anger temporarily forgotten as she drew Laverne close for another kiss.

“Me too,” Laverne whispered, and took a half step back. 

“You're serious. You're actually, really, truly, serious.”

Laverne nodded. “Like a heart attack.”

“That’s a terrible analogy,” Shirley complained, frowning.

“Not really the point, Shirl.” 

“Right, right.” It felt hard to think. Her lips still tingled where Laverne’s mouth had been. “You really want to marry me?”

“That’s what I’ve been tryna to say!”

Shirley took another step back, shaking her head. 

Laverne went on anyway: “And if Sunday’s too soon, or you don't want to get married here in New York, we can just have a party now and do it someplace else. Back home, or in California with your folks. I know this is quick, and I jump into things sometimes, but I’m sure about this.”

“Laverne, I don't know what to say. I didn't know you felt this way.”

“I didn't know I felt this way either. I had a bit of an inkling last year when we...” Laverne waved a finger between their mouths. “You know, the first time? But then I figured that was just 'cos we were dying and I chickened out of finding out if it was more than that.”

“Because you didn't want to ruin our friendship if we were wrong?” Shirley ventured, as that had been her reason for never bringing it up again.

Laverne nodded again. “But then I got to picturing us in our dresses, and saying vows, and dancing, and cavorting around Italy with Grandma. And I want that. I want all of that with you.”

“Oh, me too, Laverne. Me too.” Shirley threw her arms around Laverne's neck, finally allowing herself to be excited. “But if we’re going to do this, we need to redo our proposal.”

Laverne found her head bobbing up and down a third time, but the action was a fraction less conscious than before, her mind already twist-turning with possibilities. What would make it special? What would she have wanted to hear? Laverne's thoughts were so loud and jumbled that it took her a minute to realize Shirley was still talking.

“Do you even hear me, Laverne? Your father lying to your grandmother does not a proposal make, Laverne!”

Laverne shoved her right hand over Shirley’s mouth. “Will you keep your trap shut? You’re gonna get us both in trouble.”

Footsteps sounded outside the door. “My granddaughters best be behaving themselves.”

Laverne lifted her hand off of Shirley's lips. Shirley called out, “Of course we are, Grandmother DeFazio!” Laverne turned and opened the door.

“See. All fully dressed and everything,” Laverne added, savoring the scandalized look Shirley gave her, even as it earned Laverne a swat across her shoulders from her grandmother.

“Come, it’s too beautiful a night to waste inside.” Grandma DeFazio commanded, giving Laverne a nudge forward before leading the way outside.

By the time they made it all the way back to the festival, most of the booths were packing up. “Aw darn. I was hoping to find food,” Laverne said. “I was so nervous once I knew you were coming back that I begged off dinner.”

“That had to be a feat,” Shirley commented.

“You’re telling me. I'm pretty sure Grandma thought I was dyin’.”

“She's not going to like the truth any better if you keep on making jokes,” Shirley said, even though she was pretty sure picking on each other was just what DeFazios did. Mr. DeFazio and Laverne had certainly given her that impression.

“She’ll be fine,” Laverne seconded her thoughts.

Up ahead Shirley spotted her target and pecked Laverne on the cheek. “Wait here for me.”

Laverne pouted for just a second before going curious, calling after Shirley. “What gives?”

“Close your eyes!” Was all Shirley called back. 

Laverne obeyed reluctantly, feeling like a dope standing there with her eyes closed, especially as someone walked by and snickered. She nearly gave up on it then, but it was only a few moments more before Shirley was back saying, “open your eyes” and putting something into Laverne’s hand. A single piece of calamari.

“A little small for dinner, but I’ll take it.” 

Laverne leaned down to slurp it off her palm when Shirley said, “Wait! It’s a calamari ring, Laverne.”

“I know. It's too thin to be onion. So what?”

“So, it means I can do this.” And then Shirley truly shocked Laverne and knelt down in the middle of the street. Shirley, who hated dirt and grime and was appalled by the thought of the greased pole, had willingly set her bare legs in two days of festive muck to ask, “Laverne DeFazio, my best friend in the whole wide world, will you marry me?”

“Of course, get up here.”

“So impatient,” Shirley teased with a giggle, as she slipped the fried ring onto Laverne’s finger.

Laverne beamed as she tugged Shirley back to her feet, drew her into the kind of lengthy kiss that drew whistles from Gino and some of the other neighborhood boys. Normally that would have been embarrassing, but not tonight.

A different noise, a loud squish, did cause Shirley to pull away. 

“Your dinner,” she squeaked, and pulled a somewhat squashed sausage sandwich out from under her blouse. Her expression was sheepish as she held it out to Laverne.

“How’d you get that?” Laverne asked, taking it from Shirley and surveying the damage before peeling back the paper.

“I told the sausage vendor that I’d just gotten engaged and he took pity on me.”

“Well,” Laverne took a bite, then paused to take her ring off before it fell. Shirley took it from her. “You’ll probably be picking sweet peppers out of your bra later tonight, but it still tastes pretty good.”

They both laughed at that. Smushed sausages, smudged knees and scrawny calamari, true symbols of love.

* * *

They had brought nothing worthy of wearing to a wedding, Shirley realized the next morning. Thankfully Grandmother DeFazio had drawn the same conclusion and announced that she’d accompany them to a shopping district for new gowns. Shirley and Laverne agreed they’d avoid traditional bridal wear; it was about thirty degrees too warm for layers of tulle and taffeta. They did concede to splitting up for shopping at Grandmother DeFazio’s request. As fun as it would have been to have Laverne’s input, Shirley was secretly a bit pleased about this one nod to traditionalism. There was something special about grand bridal reveals.

“So if Grandmother DeFazio is going to be taking Laverne,” Shirley mused aloud. "Ms. Babish!” Shirley clapped her hands together, as she made her way over to Edna. “Please come wedding dress shopping with me?”

“You want to go wedding dress shopping with a woman with four failed marriages?” Edna asked, laughing. “Sounds like a bad omen.”

Shirley shrugged that off. “At least you’ll have plenty of relevant advice?”

“Gee, thanks,” Edna replied.

“Oh you know what I meant. I want this dress to be special and timeless and elegant. And you won’t hoot like Lenny and Squiggy each time I come out of the dressing room.”

“I’m supposed to be helping Frank train for the greased pole,” Edna said without any real enthusiasm.

Edna glanced back at Frank. Shirley fluttered her lashes.

“Is there something in your eye there, Shirley?” Frank asked.

“No. Mr. DeFazio,” Shirley immediately ceased fluttering. “I was just wondering if I might borrow Ms. Babish for a couple of hours so I can go shopping for the wedding?"

“Oh, all right. Go on and go.” He made a shooing motion. “Just be back with plenty of time before dinner.”

Edna kissed him on the cheek. "You're an angel, Frank."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't I know it?"

* * *

Two hours later, Shirley skipped back down the street, one light orange dress in her arms. It had taken her only a few tries to let go of the idea of wearing white—she earned that right—but the available options in her size looked like a slip or a nightie.

Edna nudged Shirley to try something she would've chosen on any other day and she'd known the orange dress was the one. The floral pattern was subtle, but lovely, the skirt flowed, the sequin belt that separated the bodice from the skirt caught the light.

Edna had assured her it was every bit as beautiful as Shirley felt in it. She snuck into the apartment carefully and stashed her find away among Edna's things.

And she was proud of herself for not asking everyone about Laverne's dress while she was at it. She could be patient, she really could.

Okay, so maybe she'd searched the house, but she gave up when she didn't find it. That was progress.

Everyone assured Laverne, and more importantly Shirley, that no further input was needed for wedding prep.

Shirley, fan of planning and organizing of all sorts, was bummed not to be more included. Meanwhile, Laverne relished the opportunity to finally get some alone time with Shirley now that things between them were real.

They spent the rest of the time before the wedding packing in all the fun from the festival they can. They won each other new stuffed friends at a couple of the carnival games, while giving a wide berth to the ‘ball through a toilet seat’ booth man. (He continued to shake his fist menacingly at Laverne, even so.) They tried feeding other cotton candy, but found it more sticky than romantic and pawned the rest off on Lenny. The highlight of their festivities, beyond the sheer joy of strolling through the grounds hand-in-hand, was sneaking in a makeout session in their car on the Ferris wheel, then riding it again to actually enjoy the view of New York below.

* * *

"You're going first down the aisle," Ms. Babish said as Shirley curled her hair the morning of the wedding. "Before you complain, we flipped a coin, it was all very fair."

"No, that's fine." Edna wasn't completely off base assuming Shirley might be disappointed, but truth be told she was just so thrilled this was happening, the details had really stopped mattering. It felt like no time at all between nibbling a piece of toast—more Edna wisdom, she promised Shirley she'd want something in her stomach—and the moment she was being loaded in the chapel. She tried to smile out at their assembled family, friends, and probable wedding crashers, but she was already starting to tear up, even before Laverne appeared in the doorway.

Laverne came down the aisle toward her, on her father’s arm, beaming with pride in a light sage dress with cap sleeves. Shirley was about to tease Laverne for her signature letter, when she blinked and it came into focus.

“It’s an 'S' because today everything about me belongs to Shirley Feeney, the best woman I know,” Laverne said, explaining to Shirley and their audience at once. It took every ounce of Shirley's self-control not to crumple into Laverne's arms and openly weep with joy.

The priest gave what was probably a lovely speech, though Shirley heard none of it. She was too busy staring at Laverne, and Laverne's dress, and the little 'S' to pay attention. She did manage to promise to love and honor in the right place and signed her name correctly on the license. 

It was still early when the ceremony let out, barely past midday, but she was grateful to discover the promised feast already waiting for them. It started with the wedding soup that she had heard much about, the rich broth delicious and teeny meatballs adorable. From there, out came servings of beef, chicken, and fish, followed by seemingly endless varieties of pasta. Sauced strand pasta, layered pasta, pasta in cute little shapes. Shirley and Laverne sampled as many of the dishes as possible and each was as scrumptious as the last.

There was a small lull between the parade of main courses and the dessert—a fact for which Shirley's stomach was very grateful. Seizing the moment, Lenny took several more pictures with the blinding flashbulb of his. Shirley was still blinking the temporary blindness out of her eyes, when a man approached her. “May I have this dance with the bride?” he asked Shirley.

“I really think today I should save all my dances for Laverne.”

“I think you might wanna accept this one, Shirl,” Laverne said.

The would-be dance partner leaned in and pressed a kiss to Shirley's forehead. “It's me. Bobby.”

“Bobby?” Shirley blinked a few more times and the after image faded, leaving her brother standing there. She leapt into his arms for a hug. “Of course I'll dance with you!”

He carried her out to the section of street where dancing was happening and spun her around once before setting her down.

The music playing was a bit too lively for the boxstep sway combination she and Bobby fell into, but she was glad. Shirley wanted to talk to him more than she wanted to dance.

“This is such a surprise! When did you get here? How did you get here?”

“Mr. DeFazio called and flew me out. I snuck in the back of the ceremony right after you'd gotten down the aisle. Didn't you see me?”

Shirley shook her head vigorously. “No, no, I was already crying by then.”

He chuckled at that. “Well I was there. Mom's here too. Please go and say hi.”

Shirley grimaced at the thought.

“I made her promise to be nice.”

Shirley let that pass. “How are you doing?”

“Good. Happy. I haven't touched a drop.” This time, she could tell Bobby was telling the truth.

She smiled. “I'm proud of you.”

“I'm proud of me too.”

“Is anybody else here? Daddy?”

“No, but one of these days I'll round up the rest of the bums that are the Feeney men. We'll throw another party.”

Shirley nodded. “I'd like that.”

“You deserve to show off your marital success. I'm glad it's Laverne. You two are really great together.”

“Thank you. We are, aren't we?” Shirley looked back at Laverne. She smiled making her way over.

“May I cut in?” she asked, and Bobby bowed. 

“Be my guest.”

Shirley twirled Laverne around once. “We can dance later. Let's go make our rounds, say our thank yous and what not,” Laverne suggested.

* * *

Rounds, as Laverne discovered, took a while at your own wedding. Edna gushed over them, Pop said a few words which were real nice, but mostly amounted to: “Don't mess this up.” Her cousins and even more distant relations stepped forward with trinkets or small sums of money, which Grandma swooped in to accept, all while blubbering over the two of them something awful. By the time she and Shirley wound her way back to Lenny and Squiggy down at their places at the cake table, she's both worn out and increasingly worried about the waning time between now and the greased pole.

“I'm going to have to go get ready soon. Are you mad?” Laverne wondered.

Shirley waved that off. “There will be plenty of time for more celebrating and dancing later. Go. I know this is important.

Laverne gave her a quick smooch. “Tell Grandma to freeze us a couple of pieces of cake. I don't want those pretty frosting flowers to melt before we get some.”

“Okay. I'm on it,” Shirley promised, waving as Laverne all but ran down the street.

* * *

In Shirley’s opinion, it was hard to decide what’s the most thoughtful of their presents. She was beyond grateful to Edna for the dress, and to Laverne’s wonderful grandmother for pulling a wedding together, but then Lenny and Squiggy had to go surprising them with that wedding album put together from all the pictures Lenny had taken, and Mr. DeFazio had flown in both her mother and Bobby, so Shirley had family there. She’d been a weeping grateful mess for the better part of the day, bowled over by everyone's generosity.

So when Laverne returned later in her cuffed shirt and jeans looking dejected as she shouted, “We’re still down one for the greased pole.” 

Shirley shoved down her revulsion and replied, “Find me a change of clothes and point me at it!”

“We was hoping you'd say that,” Anthony replied, handing Shirley a pair of jeans and a shirt. “C'mon, I'll get someone round here to let you in to change.”

Shirley followed Anthony, stripped out of her dress and into her clothes as quickly as she could, and ran back to Laverne.

“What’s gotten into Shirley?” Squiggy asked.

“I think she's a little tipsy,” Laverne said.

“I am not, Vernie.” Shirley pouted for a second, before slinging an arm around Squiggy’s neck and pulling him in. “I am in love, Andrew. Today I’ve gotten married. And today, like the mighty ant, I am unstoppable!” 

"Oh yeah, she's been hitting the booze good,” Squiggy concluded.

Shirley sighed. There wasn't time to continue arguing with him as the announcer shouted: "Team DeFazio to the pole! Team DeFazio up next."

Up close the ick covering the pole was even ickier. “Wedding present honeymoon. Wedding present honeymoon,” she mumbled to herself like a mantra as she made her way up the stacked bodies.

All the same, she squealed with disgust as she sank her hands into the greasy muck. Her stomach rolled as she shimmied up the pole to get even with Laverne. Shirley watched as her determined wife climbed and reclimbed the same few inches of pole only to slip back down again.

“I'm here!” Shirley announced.

“I can see that.” Laverne struggled up the section of pole once more. “It's no good. I can't climb any higher. You're gonna have to get on my shoulders.”

“Me?” Shirley squeaked. “Why me?”

“Do you see anyone else up here, huh?”

“No. Okay, I'm coming.” It took a lot of maneuvering to swing around to Laverne's side and arrange herself up on Laverne's shoulders. She scrambled and clawed, arms burning, swaying unsteadily atop Laverne. It felt like an entirety between the time she'd started up the pole, and when her fingers finally connected with the top of it.

As the announcer ticked down the final few seconds, Shirley's fingers closed around the flag and plucked it free. “I got the flag!” she called down.

“Team DeFazio wins. Team DeFazio is headed to Italy!” the announcer confirmed.

Both Laverne and Shirley began their descent back down the pole. “I can't believe we did it!”

“Me neither. You were something else.” Laverne grinned and reached out with one arm to hug Shirley to her. Giddy with relief Shirley cheered and lost her grip on Laverne. 

Before Shirley even realized what was happening, she slid, wobbled, and then was greeted by a brief rush of air she slipped backward off the human pyramid completely.

Thankfully, something a lot softer than the pavement below broke her fall. She was caught by a pair of strong familiar arms.

“I’ve got you, Angelface,” Carmine said, setting Shirley down on her feet.

Still a little unsteady, she clutched at his shirt. “Oh Carmine, if only you'd gotten here a few minutes earlier, I wouldn't have had to go up that pole at all! I could have broken my neck.”

“I might not have won,” he pointed out. “You look like you did great up there."

She smiled a little at that. “I guess I did. I'm gonna get to go to Italy.” She unhanded his shirt.

A brief pause followed, which Carmine broke with, “So what else did I miss?”

“Lenny didn't tell you?” She had hoped to tell Carmine herself in a show of ex-girlfriend-turned-good-friend courtesy, but the past few days had rushed by in a blur of preparation and joy, and there simply hadn't been time. “He promised he'd tell you. I should've called you myself, I'm sorry.”

“Shirley he _did_ tell me. I was only putting you on,” he reassured her. “I drove all the way out here to congratulate my favorite bride.”

“Really?” It was so sweet. She could've cried. Again.

“Yes, really. Well that and I wanted to make sure this guy's good enough for you. If you managed to get snatched up by some jerk, he's getting a punch right in the nose.”

“About that,” Shirley said.

Meanwhile, Laverne had managed to make her way back down the pole and disentangle herself from the DeFazio climbing pyramid to stand behind Carmine.

She tapped him on the shoulder. “Hiya, Carmine.”

“I mean it, Shirley. Hey, Laverne,” Carmine barely paused his rant, “Lenny said I'll never believe who you were gonna marry and I should just wait to see when I got here. Which makes a guy worry, ya know? You deserve the best.”

“I agree,” Laverne said.

“See, Laverne agrees with me.”

“I should hope she does,” Shirley took advantage of the interruption to turn Carmine around by his shoulders. “Carmine, may I present my wife, Mrs. Laverne Feeney.”

“You married Laverne?”

“We really gotta discuss the last name thing, Shirl,” Laverne said.

“Maybe we can trade off?” Shirley suggested.

“I don't think it works like that.”

“Will somebody please tell me how you two ended up married to each other?” Carmine waved a finger between the newlyweds as they continued to bicker.

Lenny swooped in. “I got this. You see, Carmine, it all started when Laverne told her grandma she doesn't live with Mr. DeFazio anymore...”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my recip, tablelamp, for encouraging unabashedly fluffy Laverne and Shirley fic. Thanks also to Missy, for pulling me into this fandom. And last but not least, thanks to Ashling for helping me polish this to perfection.


End file.
